Otabek's Garden
by Official Average Biscuit
Summary: "I don't want to run anymore. It doesn't feel good anymore." A second chance falls into the boy with the golden hair's lap. A prayer's price takes it away. The maiden sits, spinning the last feathers into the loom, praying the last bits of energy will save him.
1. Chapter 1

**Based on the folktale "The Crane Maiden" and the adaptation "Seasonal Feathers", modernized. Warning- this is really messed up, haha... If you have any triggers you should probably leave now... Here's the first chapter anyways! There will be many more~❤**

 _Yuri stumbled down the street in a haze. This shit was good, no doubt about that. He_ _couldn't remember what up was._

 _Otabek saw the boy with a clear heroine addiction mumbling, eyes wandering, unable to walk_ _every day. It was none of his business, he should stay out of it, the police could handle it, but he just couldn't shake the pain he saw under that false numbed expression._

* * *

Most people didn't see the caring side in Otabek Altin. He didn't have the money to be caring, he didn't have the time to give loans he knew wouldn't be paid back. He worked hard, real hard, and he kept his circles small. He kept his head down in the spinning world around him. He saw men shooting children and sick grandmothers holding the babies of their addict daughters every day. He saw that blonde boy every day. It shouldn't matter at this point.

But in the back of Otabek's neat, tiny apartment he could barely afford, on a patio barely big enough to keep even a proper seat and table, sat a garden. A tomato plant that tried and failed every year in the cold struggled once more, the tendrils reaching for the sunlight, aching to grow.

Most people couldn't hold a conversation with Yuri Plisetsky even if they tried. He was either too high, or too angry because he wasn't. No one knew him, and no one wanted to. The boy with the beautiful golden hair that once had a dream, draining away his skin with each hit.

But behind that vacant gloss, his eyes held a fiery blue spark full of regret and ache, to get back to where he once was. Yuri needed someone. His hand raised up, wobbling and wavering, a soup of liquid in his eyes. If someone could just help him see, he could raise his fingers. His hands that tried and failed every year in the cold to support himself to stand up struggled once more. His fingers reached for the sunlight, aching to grow.

 _Just one more chance._ Yuri wanted to scream, but he grumbled something no one could understand. A small, warm tear hugged the face he could no longer feel. _Help_. _It doesn't feel good anymore. I can't run away anymore._

 _I can't stop on my own anymore._

* * *

 _Otabek found himself searching for the figure of the boy, who he nicknamed Kotenok. He grew up in Kazakhstan, but had lived in St. Petersburg long enough to know how brutal the winters were here._

 _"Come on... wander through the snow, now. You can stand... come on, Kotenok. Come by my window just one more day, please." Otabek quietly cheered him on through his window. The snow had begun to fall, and if he didn't come, the worst... Otabek didn't want to think about it. He wasn't sure why- he had seen countless junkies die in this winter, he never cared. There were too many to care. But this boy..._

 _A figure slumped through the snow fall, the few inches already on the ground drowning it's boots._

 _"Kotenok." Otabek breathed a sigh of relief. He rushed to his door and threw it open, yelling into the cold._

* * *

"Hey kid, c'mere!"

Yuri's head rose slowly. The figure hazily came into his field of vision. He shuffled towards the door. "An angel?"

No, he wasn't that high. His eyes were hazy because of the now pouring snow. His feet, already lead, strained under the rapidly thickening blanket, but he shuffled still. The figure welcoming him wasn't much older than he was, but his face had lines that told a story of hard work and bitter words stuffed down under authority. His face seemed almost exasperated, but his eyes shone with an uncanny feeling Yuri couldn't describe.

The doorway wobbled it's way closer, and Yuri waved in the delusion of the cold.

"Thank god you're okay..." the angel smiled.

Yuri scowled weakly. "You're not a priest, are you?" was all he could sputter before collapsing.

* * *

When Yuri woke, he was sitting on a very clean couch. He wasn't used to anything clean, he was barely ever even inside. He ran his fingers across the couch. He was detoxing, to his frustration, and he abruptly remembered where he was.

"Who the hell are you?" Yuri yelled suddenly.

The "angel" poked his head from the other room, if you could even call it a room. The house was small, freakishly small, but it was neat.

"I'm Otabek. What's your name?"

Yuri sat back in discomfort. "Am I dead?"

Otabek smiled, something he wasn't good at and clearly didn't do often, but it was genuine enough. "No, you're not dead, this isn't a church, and I'm not a cop or a pervert. I'm just a guy." he sat a glass and pitcher of water in front of Yuri. The glasses were cheap and looked like they were bought for less than a good sandwich, but they were cleaned immaculately and the stolen restaurant napkins were folded cutely.

Yuri accepted the water, disgruntled. "Why'd you help me?"

"Why'd you do what I said?" Otabek replied without a second thought.

Yuri had to think on this. Why did he come in here? He could be killed, or drugged and raped, anything could happen to him. But anything could happen to him out there, too, and he was certainly minutes from death in that cold. What did he really have to lose? Although, he had prayed for a second chance, and he didn't pray much. Maybe he really thought this Otabek was an angel for a moment. Still, maybe it was just pure human logic. He needed him. No, that wasn't the whole truth.

"I thought you were an angel." Yuri said matter-of-factly. If he was going to be honest with some lovey dovey shit, he was going to be a bitch about it. No way this situation was gonna turn into some dumb Twilight shit. He grabbed the water and chugged it.

Otabek stared, somewhat surprised. "Oh, that makes sense I suppose. It sounds really bad, but I just saw you around, so I started watching you. I rooted for you, I hoped you would be okay, but I never had the balls to do anything."

Now Yuri was surprised, pouring more water over his ice. "Well, I'm Yuri Plisetsky, and I want a hit. You gonna throw me out, now?"

Otabek tsked, something a little too patronizing for Yuri's taste. "Of course you want a hit kid, you're not superman... despite what you think, cocky motherfucker."

Yuri sneered. It appeared they would get along okay.

* * *

Yuri eventually fell asleep again. When he woke up fresh water was in front of him, along with a note that read " _You just have to get through it._ "

He scoffed. Sappy shit. When he read it again, however, he traced his finger over the quaint, loose handwriting and admired it. Organized, but with no time. He already knew quite a bit about Otabek.

Yuri stood, and he realized Otabek had tied his hair back. "How gay..." Yuri scoffed. He already wasn't happy and felt sick from the lack of dope. He was cold and sweaty and hot and dry and itchy all at the same time.

He downed the water and decided to roam the house a little, and wandered into the "kitchen", the room that was too small to even be a room Otabek had come from the night before. It was freakishly small, neat and everything was cheap, just like everything else. Otabek clearly wasn't around, and Yuri deduced he probably worked as a server or something shitty like that. He really didn't have time or money to take care of Yuri...

Yuri sighed with guilt. _What the fuck is this dude doing wasting his time with me?_

Suddenly, a thought struck him. "Otabek!"

"Otabek!"

"Oi, Mr. Priest!"

He wasn't here. He left Yuri in his house. At first Yuri immediately thought he was stupid, which to a degree he was, but he realized Otabek saw how sad Yuri was.

 _He must be really broken and stuck himself..._

Yuri hated this sickening feeling of _feeling_. He didn't want to care about this stupid dude who decided to take a damn junkie into his house, but he thought back on his wish to whoever was listening. He still wondered...

For now, he didn't want to deal with detoxing, and he couldn't sit still. He'd just take a bath and get through the awkward side effects until he could sleep it off more. One week to go. One week to go, and Yuri for some reason already accepted that he wasn't just going to trash this idiot's house, that he was really going to get clean.

"What the hell, dude..."

* * *

"Yuri, I'm home, are you still here?"

The late night's kiss of cold air mixed with the stuffy warmth of Otabek's home as he entered. Yuri scoffed after a moment, not bothering to look at him.

"Can you not leave the damn door open? Shit, you talk about wanting to save me from the cold, at least don't freeze us both." He leaned against the sofa arm.

Otabek somehow seemed relieved by this complaint. "Sorry. Did you eat something?"

Yuri had forgotten. He glanced away gauchely. "Wasn't hungry." He couldn't even say anything clever since he really didn't have the mental capacity to speak. The invisible demons had started to pour from the walls.

Otabek set his bag on the table, mumbling about a sandwich and how stupid "the kid" was, and Yuri noticed the uniform.

"A waiter?"

Otabek seemed oddly embarrassed and defensive. "You're going to judge me? Clearly I can pay rent." He said it coolly, but his face was hidden with a tinge of illogical shame in his tone.

The silver tie and black button up with the charcoal slacks suited him... Yuri scolded himself for such a stupid cheesy thought. "Charcoal slacks" wasn't something he'd say. He held the pillow he was hiding behind a bit tighter. This was not the time.

Otabek was in the kitchen now, and the clinks of silverware sang quaintly. "Do you want ham or turkey? Oh, and are you allergic to cheese? You're getting mustard either way."

Yuri smiled softly, a smile he'd never let anyone else see, something he usually didn't even allow conciously when alone.

"Turkey, please. I'm not allergic to anything and mustard sounds great."

The silverware went quiet for a slight moment, then continued.

Yuri knew Otabek let himself have that smile too. Things were oddly okay.

* * *

"Here you are." Otabek setting the sandwich in front of him was painfully and strikingly motherly, something that almost made Yuri laugh. Maybe it was just he was still in his server uniform.

Yuri reached forward and cringed as the pillow brushed him. Otabek was quiet, but a laugh stifled in his throat shook his shoulders slightly.

"Can you fucking die?!" Yuri snapped, carefully leaning back and tearing a bite from the sandwich. "I'm gonna get crumbs all over your stupid little fucking perfect couch, you bitch. You should fucking know I can't help it right now, you're the one who's getting me clean!"

Otabek grinned. "Oh, I think you're getting more than crumbs on my couch."

A pause.

Otabek burst into laughter as Yuri attempted and failed intimidation. "Y-You fucker! I hate you! You shut your stupid mouth or I'll break your fingers, asshole!" Otabek just wheezed, Yuri's embarrassment boiling over.

"Just stop" he laughed. " It's only getting worse for you and better for me."

Yuri steamed, shaking with fury at the fact he couldn't move much. A high pitched desperate attempt at a growl left Yuri.

"Fuck you!" He bellowed, unable to move to hit Otabek.

Otabek stood, still entertained. "I'll draw a bath."

Yuri fumed. He wouldn't let that stupid bitch see his cumstain, at the very least.

* * *

Yuri wanted to hit something. He quietly stripped and sank into the bath, of course immediately resulting in another uncontrollable and pleasure-less orgasm.

"Fucking hell, dude..." Literally any sensation set it off. Hopefully that would stop sooner than later, until then he really couldn't do anything.

Yuri scowled at what had just occurred. "What a cunt." He sighed angrily.

He wasn't really all mad, though. It was bound to happen and he could see why Otabek would laugh. He was sad and embarrassed. He liked this crazy shit head. The sandwich, his snarky laughs and hums, the way he tied Yuri's hair back, the underlying caring in his sarcasm. It was like family, or better. Yuri smiled with some strange shame. What a cunt.


	2. Chapter 2

***Screams* what?! I woke up this morning and saw a bunch of follows and favorites,,,? This is my edgy passion project,,,? Even my victuuri smut is getting a ton of love,,,? Now I have to actually work on this lol,,,,?**

 **In all seriousness, thank you guys for support and I hope new readers will continue to enjoy my work. I love the support and love both this and the victuuri has been given and I plan on bringing many more chapters.**

 **-Biscuit**

* * *

Even those around town got word. Yuri Plisetski, "that poor boy", was clean. It was a bittersweet miracle, one to be doubted and whispered about. He didn't leave Otabek's house much, and that caused whispers in itself. Yuri's face peered from the curtains as Otabek left for work early in the morning, peered out with a relieved smile Yuri couldn't control when he came home.

Sometimes Otabek came home at three, sometimes he worked a double and came home late. Sometimes, he would be called in for a late shift by surprise and Yuri would begrudgingly wish him well by light of a tired sun, knowing Otabek would clamber home exhausted at the youngest hours of the day, still mumbling about how Yuri had better have eaten dinner and slept. Even though he had a few days off a week, the hours were still rough and undefined. Otabek still only worried about Yuri.

This undying caring and hard work broke Yuri's heart. He would never show it, but Otabek had become truly important in his heart, something precious and rare to be protected. His walls may still have been up, but he didn't scold himself for letting his thoughts say that Otabek was a good thing.

"Hey, Otabek, uh..." Yuri had a hard time finding his words. He set down the dish he was washing, and Otabek glanced up from his water bill.

"Otabek, are we... Are we friends?"

Otabek looked back down, a slight smile passively at his lips. "Of course, Yuri. Why?"

Yuri turned back to the plate, which he forcefully scrubbed. "I wanted to know." He muttered, trying to push down his happiness. He didn't have friends. He never had friends. Who would want to be his friend? He glanced to Otabek.

Him.

Otabek was smiling a little, not enough to be considered a real smile by most. Yuri noticed it.

"You wanted to know if I was going to kick you out when you got clean." Otabek finished. "No. You're my friend."

Yuri didn't know whether to be offended or elated.

"I think that plate is clean, Yuri."

Yuri realized he had been fiercely scrubbing the same plate for the entire conversation. He muttered a curse of some sort and snatched a cup. What a cunt.

* * *

Yuri was a little surprised by the offer.

"The mall?"

Otabek cocked his head a little. "Yeah, I have some extra money and the bills are paid, I thought it would be good to get out of the house."

Yuri was oddly nervous. "Okay."

Otabek had bought him some clothes and all, but Yuri hadn't really left the house. He felt strangely anxious over being in public again, like someone was going to laugh at him. His eyes met the floor. He wasn't sure whether going with Otabek made this feeling better or worse; he was conflicted over Otabek in general.

"Great." Otabek grinned, snapping Yuri out of his thoughts. "Let's head out."

* * *

Yuri hadn't seen this street sober in a while. It really was a mess. He was quiet until they neared the mall, where the houses were nicer.

"It's a very pretty day." Yuri awkwardly noted.

Otabek looked to him. "Yes, the leaves are beautiful in spring, and the sky is even more gorgeous. It's such a pure blue." He laughed lightly, pulling a wind fallen leaf out of Yuri's hair. Yuri stuttered silently, unable to think of a good reaction, or even look away.

"Why are you so poetic all of the sudden? You're making me feel stupid." Yuri's face already felt color rising; this was the wrong thing to say. Still, he had to ride it until the end.

"I can't think of cool things to say like you."

 _FUCK! You were supposed to make this better, not worse! Good job making it gay, weirdo!_ Yuri screamed inwardly for a moment, choking on his spit.

Otabek laughed lightly though, apparently approving. "You're right though, it's so nice right now. I'm glad I had today off, it's a nice day to go out."

Yuri was quiet. The wind whistled lightly as they approached the mall.

* * *

"Otabek! That one's so cool!" Yuri gasped, running to admire a leather jacket in a store front. He didn't care if he looked immature right now, he was having fun, real fun. "Imagine you in a jacket like that!"

Otabek smiled. "Well, let's go in. I'll try it on."

Yuri looked back at Otabek with some surprise. "Ah, really? I wasn't expecting you to wear something like that..." He looked over Otabek's gray sweater and dull blue scarf.

"Well, you think I'd look good, right?"

Yuri stuttered a bit. No way he was considering it just based on Yuri's taste and advice.

"Well, yeah, but I thought-" Yuri began, but Otabek had grabbed his wrist and dragged him into the store. Yuri stumbled on his words. This man gave zero reaction time. Without hesitation Otabek found the jacket and threw it on. Oddly, it fit the rest of his outfit.

"Well?" Otabek demanded, striking a dramatic pose.

Yuri couldn't help laughing. "I think it's perfect, but don't go all Vogue with such a serious face, it's too much."

Otabek relaxed and stood normally, laughing with him. "I'll buy it then."

* * *

Otabek looked really good, and Yuri was glad he suggested the jacket. They ran across a sweets shop and bought crepes despite Yuri's complaints that it was "too girly".

Yuri now adamantly ate the crepe, his bites oddly small but angry; an allegory to the person eating.

Otabek smiled nervously smiled from over their table. "Hey, don't go so fast, I was going to ask to try yours too."

Yuri nearly choked at the idea of the statement out of context."Sorry" he mumbled, offering Otabek a bite quietly. Otabek laughed.

"What's so funny?" He demanded, a little flustered. Otabek was constantly patronizing.

Otabek chuckled. "It's just how sometimes you can be so cute, Yurio."

Yuri's face hit the table, Otabek immediately apologized.

"You should be sorry! I'm not cute, and now you're not getting any of my crepe! And that's not my name!" Yuri howled, face dusted with a blush.

Otabek sighed sadly. "You didn't like the nickname..."

Yuri wanted to scream. Otabek was just so sad, it was almost cute.

"Fine, you can call me 'Yurio' if you want. No one else, though, this isn't going to be a thing." Said Yurio.

* * *

Yurio and Otabek walked laughing. They had ended up buying ice cream, too, and Otabek bought Yurio a cute if very useless cat plushy. The wind of evening bit their faces and the sun waved goodbye, and everything was alright.

"Otabek, I want to tell you something." Yurio's blush glowed under the reflected last light of the day. Otabek nodded, a little captivated.

Yurio stared away into the street. He couldn't even look at him. _No honor,_ his grandfather would chide. He smiled a little sadly at the thought.

"Thank you for everything you've done."

The light sang against the grass, the sidewalk under their feet seeming to fall away.

Otabek suddenly pulled Yurio against him, a warm hug. Yurio's eyes widened, then fell into a helpless smile. His arms moved slowly to hold Otabek back.

What a cunt.


	3. Chapter 3

Yuri tossed and turned on the couch. The mental effects of getting clean still hadn't gone away, and the problems he had drowned in drugs began to creep back into his mind.

The echoes of memories rose to his mind. How many times? How many times had he given this feeling a chance, only to be destroyed? His throat burned with tears he refused to let out. Otabek had gone to sleep long ago, but he still couldn't cry. He could never cry after what she did to him, all the pain...

The blanket felt heavier, hotter now. Yuri could feel his lungs expanding and contracting, his hoarse breath screaming, louder than screams, louder than an explosion. The darkness strangled him, threatening. Her voice screamed in his mind, and the echoes of those who were disappointed in him after that. The metal crushing against his face, knocking him to the wood floors of his own home, the blood escaping from the sharp, sudden wound. But what truly hurt in that moment was her, screaming at him.

"You're a disappointment! Worthless! You're the worst son a woman could ask for!"

The moonlight trickling in from cracks in the curtains wavered, becoming threatening hands. The broken piece of wood fence struck across his back, demands barked he could not achieve, empty sobs hidden in a wardrobe.

His mother's smile, the taste of sweets, the carnival, the cobbled streets of home, papa, a hug from mama...

A scream, a crack, a burn, a scar, a wound.

Yuri felt himself choking. He had to stop this. He had to calm down. Mama wasn't here anymore, she couldn't hurt him...

 _She can't sing to me, either..._

His heart pounded. Locked away tears burned his throat, his fingers numb. His ribs felt like they were clenching his lungs, he felt like he could compress and fold away into nothing, like the hair stuck to his face with cold sweat was three hundred pounds.

"Mama..." he choked desperately. He stuttered, trying to remember how it went, trying to ignore his guilt.

" _Sinking lower than low_

 _Where am I, where do I go..._

 _In this rapidly darkening sea_

 _But my eyes open wide, when I see it pass by_

 _A ray of light dances around me"_

Mama... the song she always sang. It was a cynical song, but a love song still. His voice broke, crying with no tears. His hushed voice filled the room.

 _"Just what was that that passed by my eyes so bright_

 _Just what are you, the love that lit this cruel slow night?_

 _I only watch the dazzling you from afar_

 _And I am the one who lied..._

 _The deep dark sea, it owns me_

 _And I cannot break to you_

 _The moments from before_

 _The moments that tore_

 _I want to leave them for you"_

He had to stop. He couldn't sing anymore. _Did you really hate me, mama? Did all the others really hate me that much? Did even Grandpa love me?_

The sounds of tears escaped him, but he couldn't do it. This is why he tried to escape in the first place. He longed, he ached to trust Otabek, but throughout his life, he had only been hurt. Mama went to prison... Papa had been dead as long as he could remember, and his stepfather didn't want him. Grandpa was all he had for a long time, but before long he was gone too. Yuri didn't have anyone by the time he was fourteen.

 _"Look at that stupid emo fuck, trying to act tough."_

 _"Who wears long sleeves in summer? Stupid bitch baby."_

 _"You think you're hot shit, don't you, emo fuck? Little kitty wants to fight?"_

 _"Plisetsky! I will not tolerate that language! I will have to call your grandfather!"_

 _"Plisetsky, this is your last warning. One more suspension, and I'm afraid we'll have to expel you."_

"Stop..." Yuri weakly hissed. That was two years ago. Why wouldn't they leave his head? Why wouldn't the image of grandpa, cold on the floor, leave his damn head?

Suddenly, a soft voice broke Yuri's panic.

"Your voice is so beautiful..." Otabek murmured. "I'm so sorry you're in this much pain..."

Yuri hissed with embarrassment, sitting up as Otabek turned on the light. "W-well... a kid doesn't just start doing fucking heroine for nothing."

Otabek sat on the couch, and Yuri avoided his gaze.

Otabek stayed silent for a moment, letting Yuri have the quiet, not pressing. He thought of what to say for a moment, then decided against it and brushed a lock of Yuri's hair away from his face. Yuri looked up slowly, eyes burning. _What's his problem?_ Otabek shifted, his face honest and sympathetic.

"Did you know..." Otabek whispered. "Did you know, before I knew you, I had a nickname for you?"

Yuri glared.

"I'm not trying to be creepy. I saw you, and I saw how people looked at you. I was just so sad, and I was so pissed that I was sad. I couldn't understand for the life of me what I saw in this fucked up junkie that walked down my street every day. There were already plenty of those. But, I couldn't convince myself that was all you were, I couldn't look at you that way. For some reason, all I saw was emptiness, sadness, and that beautiful golden hair. It reminded me of a little sad lost kitten in the rain, limping. I wanted to help you for so long... but I'm a coward. I told myself I couldn't do it, I couldn't logically afford to care. I hid, and I selfishly told myself I didn't have what it took to care.

I called you Kotenok."

Yuri's face got hot, and he clicked his tongue in an attempt at disgust.

"Can I call you Kotenok?"

Yuri angrily glared away, lips shaking. "Yes." he whispered.

"Do you really think my voice is beautiful?" He asked weakly.

Otabek smiled sadly. "Yes." His fingers edged for Yuri's, but he decided against it. "Will you sing for me?"

Yuri had to look at him. He wasn't being rude. He was serious.

"Yes."

* * *

Yuri groggily opened his eyes, his leg asleep and a crook in his neck.

"Sunufabitch..." he croaked sleepily. He realized why when he remembered he had fallen asleep sitting against Otabek, who made soft hums in his sleep.

"Son of a bitch...!" he repeated, carefully lifting away from Otabek. He flushed red and burned with childish anger. Who did this fucker think he was, getting all sappy at Yuri's weak moment? He stormed to the kitchen, starting coffee with a furious flare, slamming the cup and forcing open the milk angrily. His mind drowned in furious curses, more angry with himself than Otabek. _Still pretty fucking angry with Otabek, though!_ he cursed himself.

He didn't bother making Otabek's cup. Instead, he stormed back to the living room and sharply kicked Otabek's leg.

"Oi, wake up!" he growled. "If you don't go to work, I don't have food."

Otabek's glare snapped to Yuri and shot arrows through him before realizing the situation. Yuri already almost faltered with fear. _Holy shit, is that the first angry face I've seen him make? He's fucking horrifying!_

Otabek quickly reverted to normal, and coughed to regain his composure. "I hope you made coffee if you're going to wake me up like that."

Yuri clicked his tongue and hotheadly sighed. "Yeah whatever it's in the pot ready. Make your own damn cup."

Otabek stood up to look at Yuri.

"..."

"Stop that." Otabek said quietly.

Yuri's glare wavered again.

"I already know how hurt you are. I'm not going to hurt you. Stop doing that. It's not good for you."

Yuri raised an eyebrow. "Stop what, genius?"

"Stop locking yourself away! You're hurting yourself and god damnit you're hurting me! When was the last time you cried? Stop being a fucking asshole when you're scared and let me help you!" Otabek's voice suddenly rose.

Yuri narrowed his eyes for a moment, then silently sat on the couch.

"Coffee's in the pot. You should get ready for work." He quietly said, voice careful and controlled. His fists clenched his jeans.


End file.
